Kinneyitis
by RaB
Summary: BJ fic that takes place around 403404: What happens when Justin gets tired of Brian's games and wants to know that he comes first? A big ol' fight, that's what! Will Brian be able to admit to Justin how he feels before it's too late? Please Read&Review!


KINNEYITIS  
  
RaB  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, much to my dismay, lol.  
  
It didn't happen often, not anymore, but the doctors did say that he would most likely have problems with his hand for the rest of his life. Nothing serious, just some tremors every now and then, usually because of over- exertion. Justin hated that, but he knew it could be worse, even as his hand trembled violently while he was pouring coffee. He managed to maintain control for long enough to finish the cup but practically had to drop the pot onto the table with a loud thud.  
  
"Fuck!" He muttered under his breath, clenching and unclenching his fist to make the shaking stop. The customer, who was using his napkin to wipe up the few drops that had managed to spill out, smiled warmly and shook his head.  
  
"Hey, hey," Brian said calmly, taking Justin's trembling hand in his own and massaging it with his thumbs, "don't worry about it, okay?"  
  
Justin released a long sigh of frustration before nodding in agreement. "Yeah," he said softly, shaking his head as Brian pulled his young lover's palm up to his lips, kissing it tenderly. Justin's grimace grew into a broad smile as he leaned in and kissed Brian's mouth. It was a matter of mere seconds before he felt the harsh whip of a damp towel on his butt. Looking behind him, he saw Debbie standing militantly, chompimg relentlessly on her gum.  
  
"Would you stop fraternizing with the so-called customers, Sunshine?" She asked, her tone thick with amusement and just a touch of annoyance. "We do have real customers, you know"  
  
Brian smiled sardonically at his pseudo-mom. "Cute, Deb."  
  
Debbie gave Brian a loving slap on the cheek before she and Justin got back to work. As Brian began fixing his coffee, Lindsay sat down across from him with a very fussy Gus in tow. Brian looked up and raised his brow.  
  
"What's his problem?"  
  
"Hello to you, too," Lindsay almost growled.  
  
Brian couldn't help but laugh. "Hi, Lindsay."  
  
"Hi, Brian. And YOUR son's problem is that he's a fussy toddler."  
  
"I love how whenever he's whining he magically becomes MY son," he mused before stretching out his arms to his little boy. "C'mere, sonny boy," he coaxed. Gus wiggled from his mother's grasp until he was standing on the ground. He walked to the other side of the table and clambered into his father's embrace. As he rested his head on Brian's shoulder, he received a gentle kiss on the forehead.  
  
"That's my sweet boy," he murmured into his son's dark brown hair. Gus replied with a quiet giggle and a mumbling of the word, "Dada."  
  
"Aw, a Kodak moment," Justin teased as he walked over to the table with coffee for Lindsay and orange juice for Gus.  
  
Brian rolled his eyes. "Fuck you."  
  
"Watch it!" Lindsay scolded, "the last thing I need Gus to inherit from you is your partiality for swear words."  
  
"Justin," Brian stated plainly, getting the attention of his boyfriend, "I'd like for you to meet Saint Lindsay."  
  
"It's a pleasure."  
  
"Fuck you both then! I don't need a call home from Gus's preschool telling me about his cursing."  
  
Looking ashamed, Justin apologized. "Sorry, Lindsay."  
  
The blonde woman shook her head. "No, Justin, it's not you. And surprisingly not Brian, either."  
  
"What is it then?" Brian asked as he situated his son in his lap.  
  
"Just with the new baby coming and the work at the gallery, Gus's fussing was the straw the broke this lesbian's back."  
  
"Yeah well, you know what they say about-" Brian's sentence was cut short when his eye caught on to something. Justin looked toward the door at a tall, mildly-handsome man that just walked through the door. Staring at Brian with a knowing grin on his face, he mouthed 'hey' from across the room. Brian merely nodded once and smirked insincerely at him before turning his attention back to his squirming child.  
  
"Who's that?" Justin asked as nonchalantly as he could.  
  
Brian took a moment to consider this. "Let's see... That would be Mr. Thursday."  
  
"Mr. Thursday?" Lindsay inquired. Justin didn't want to know.  
  
"Yeah. Thursday night's fu- coital encounter."  
  
"So you name them by the days of the week now?" Justin asked.  
  
"No names, remember?"  
  
"Oh. I thought it was because you were starting to keep track of the fact that you spend almost as many nights a week banging some loser instead of being with me."  
  
"What are you... Jealous?"  
  
Justin felt his face getting hot; he hated when Brian spoke to him in such a patronizing tone, especially when he was right.  
  
"You wish," the blonde responded casually before leaning in and pressing a kiss against his lover's lips. "I don't do jealous."  
  
Justin began kicking off his shoes and taking off his jacket as he pulled closed the heavy door to Brian's loft. Pulling off his bright pink tank top, he listened for an indication of Brian and heard that he was in the bedroom. Good, he thought, just where I want him. As he approached, he realized just what it was Brian was doing in the bedroom, and it wasn't him.  
  
A skinny, dark-haired twink was on his hands and knees gripping Brian's blue velvet comforter as Brian fucked him. Justin wished he hadn't come like he wasn't supposed to in the first place. He scolded himself for telling Cody he was going to leave early. Who was he to expect Brian to wait for him, or even hope for him rather than turn to the first fuckable guy he saw?  
  
Stopping at the stairs to the bedroom, Justin watched for a few moments before Brian even noticed his presence.  
  
"Hey there, Sunshine," he greeted the blonde without stopping, his words slurring slightly from whatever he was on, "what're you doing here?"  
  
"I thought... uh... what I..." Justin was speechless.  
  
"You thought what? You gonna finish that sentence sometime before I finish him?" He asked, an amused grin spreading across his handsome features, making him somehow ugly to Justin.  
  
"No... I mean... never mind. I'm just gonna go."  
  
"What? Why? Join us! It'll be fun. A gay ol' romp!"  
  
"No, I don't want to."  
  
Brian laughed, not picking up on the seriousness of his lover's tone. "Oh come on!"  
  
"I said I don't want to!" Justin told him forcefully, with more anger in his voice than he had intended to reveal. Brian was taken aback.  
  
"All right, do what you like, just don't expect me to come a'runnin' after you."  
  
"I would dream of it!" Justin told him, his voice thick with contempt. As he turned and stormed out of the loft, he mumbled to himself, "you never have before."  
  
Though Justin was trying desperately to clear his mind and fall asleep, he couldn't. As he lay quietly in Brian's arms, his head was rushing with a thousand conflicting thoughts and feelings. He wanted to not care, the way he did when they got back together. He wished that it wouldn't matter to him because he knew that in the end Brian would always come back to him, but somehow, that seemed to matter less and less with every guy that Brian fucked that wasn't him. Justin now found himself watching Brian, both men were unmoving though Justin had become more than restless.  
  
"Why are you still awake?" Brian suddenly asked Justin without opening his eyes, startling the shit out of him.  
  
"Fucking Christ, Brian! I thought you were sleeping."  
  
Brian slowly opened his eyes and blinked away his exhaustion. "Well, I'm not, and neither are you. Besides, how do you expect me to sleep with you lying there watching me?"  
  
Justin could help but crack a smile. "That's frightening."  
  
Nodding in agreement, Brian said, "yeah, you're telling me. So what's wrong with you?"  
  
Justin propped himself up on one arm so that he was facing his lover; Brian did the same.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Do I make you happy?" Justin blurted out, taking Brian by complete surprise.  
  
"Oh fucking hell, Justin, what kind of question is that?"  
  
"Stop avoiding and just answer the goddamn question."  
  
Brian rolled his eyes. "Yes, Justin," he answered as if he were talking to a two year old, "you make me happy. Now will you go to sleep?"  
  
"Don't fucking talk to me like some little kid! If I make you happy, then why does it take fucking every other goddamn fag in Pittsburgh to satisfy you?"  
  
Brian could tell that Justin was dead serious, but he couldn't help finding the whole conversation ridiculously amusing. "Because my hunger is insatiable," he said with a laugh, leaning in to plant a kiss on Justin's lips. He was pushed violently away.  
  
"Fuck you!" The blonde yelled angrily, getting out of bed and putting on his clothes, which had been clumsily thrown about the floor around the bed.  
  
"What is your problem?" Brian asked, sitting up. "Is this about last night?"  
  
"Yes... no... it's about every fucking night, Brian! It's about every fucking guy you sleep with that isn't me because I feel like that's every guy you're sleeping with."  
  
"Don't you dare fucking pull this shit!" Brian commanded as he too got out of bed. "When you came to me, practically begging for me to take you back after what's-his-name, you told me you understood the stipulations of our, whatever it is we are. You said you knew what you could expect from me and I thought you meant it. Obviously, little Justin isn't mature enough to handle the reality of our 'relationship'."  
  
Justin was incredulous. "You think what we have is mature? Who the fuck do you think you are? Commitment is mature, Brian, but you couldn't possibly handle such a concept. Commitment is so beneath you." Justin felt his eyes filling with tears and he couldn't seem to care. "I am... I'm so beneath you. What I can give you, the love that I have for you, obviously doesn't count for shit compared to all the one night stands that you could be having. All I want is to be with you, and you want everything else."  
  
"So you got me all figured out, is that it?" Brian inquired, and he moved close to Justin and was standing not even a foot away. "I didn't ask for you to walk into my life. I didn't ask for you to follow me around making puppy dog eyes for months. I didn't ask to fall... I didn't ask for any of this and yet here you are, still in my life when all I had wanted was to take you home, fuck you, and never see you again."  
  
"Well there's a fuck of a lot I didn't ask for either!" Justin retorted, the anger he felt reddening his cheeks. "I didn't ask to meet you or fall in love with you! I didn't ask to be crippled for the rest of my life and if you hadn't come to my prom it never would have happened so thanks a fucking lot for what you've given me!"  
  
This time, it was Brian who looked like he had been hit in the gut with a baseball bat. He was speechless, and Justin had time to realize what he said.  
  
"Jesus, Brian, I didn't-"  
  
"Get out," he told Justin calmly. "Get the fuck out before I put you back in the hospital you ungrateful, selfish, little shit."  
  
"Don't Brian-"  
  
"I swear to God, Justin," he insisted, his voice breaking and his hands shaking violently. "Get out."  
  
Justin put on his shoes and left, both boys ripped to shreds.  
  
"He said what?" Daphne asked, her voice rising with dramatic disbelief.  
  
"Basically that he wishes he never saw me after the first night we fucked," Justin informed her matter-of-factly, playing with a deep violet throw pillow that he was hugging against his chest.  
  
"How could he say something like that? I mean, you know it's not true, Justin. We all know it's not true."  
  
Justin shrugged and out of habit, ran his fingers over where his long, blonde locks used to reside. "I guess."  
  
"So what did you say to him after that?"  
  
Justin felt his face getting hot, he didn't know that he could feel so ashamed. "I... fuck, I said that if it weren't for him, I'd never have gotten bashed."  
  
Daphne was speechless. All she could do was stare incredulously at Justin. "Wow."  
  
"I know! I've never, ever seen him so angry, Daph. He said he was gonna put me back in the hospital if I didn't leave."  
  
"Way to better the situation, threaten your boyfriend," Daphne said, her voice thick with sarcasm as she shook her head.  
  
"I think I deserved it," Justin admitted.  
  
"No, you do not. You're an amazing guy, Justin. You deserve to get treated like a boyfriend and not a fuck-buddy in the first place."  
  
"It's not... it's not always like that you know."  
  
Daphne choked a laugh. "How can you defend him?"  
  
"I'm not defending him, I'm just saying that sometimes, sometimes he even acts like he loves me, and I know why I love him."  
  
"We all know why you love him, Justin, and I think he loves you too. And you know I adore Brian but like I said, you're not wrong for wanting him to treat you like you come first, like you're more important to him than his lifestyle that he's so unwilling to give up."  
  
"If only he could see it like that, but God forbid that the Great Brian Kinney should give up said lifestyle for someone who actually loves him. God, I'm such an idiot, he'll never change. Not for me."  
  
Daphne bit her lip and shrugged. "I don't know about that. I mean, in a way, he already has. Think about it, the fact that your with him in any kind of relationship... he said you were his partner."  
  
"Haven't you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?"  
  
"I mean it," Daphne insisted as she pulled the pillow from Justin's arms and gave him a playful smack in the head with it. "Anyway, it's almost four-thirty and I need to get some sleep. You should too."  
  
Justin sighed heavily. "Yes, mother."  
  
Kissing him sweetly on the cheek, she said good night and left him alone in his room. Maybe Daphne was right, maybe he didn't give Brian enough credit for what he did give him. Justin drifted off into a restless sleep where he dreamt of Brian, just like he knew he would.  
  
Michael rushed up the stairs to Brian's loft, taking them two at a time. From the urgency in his best friends voice, not to mention the late-or early, depending on how one looked at it- hour at which he was coming over to Brian's, he didn't want to waste time waiting for the elevator. When Michael reached Brian's door, he found that it had been left open a crack for him, and he let himself in to find Brian in a foul state.  
  
"Jesus fucking Christ, Brian!" He exclaimed and was at a loss for words. There were at least four or five beer bottles strewn across the floor, not to mention a small plastic bag of pills that looked like it was missing a few sitting on the countertop, probably ecstasy. Brian was wobbling his way toward Michael, an open bottle of what looked like JD in his right hand.  
  
"Hey there, Mikey," he greeted his best friend in a state past trashed, "what're you doing here?"  
  
"What am I doing here? At three o'clock in the morning I get a phone call from some drunken asshole telling me that something terrible has happened and that I have to come over to his place right away. So what the fuck happened anyway? Did you puke in your bed and need me to change the sheets?"  
  
"Now, now, Mikey, I have plenty of experience changing sheets."  
  
"Then what is it?"  
  
"He said... he... he said it's my fault," Brian told him, choking on his words. "It's my fault."  
  
Michael shook his head and tried to make sense of Brian. "What? Who said what's your fault."  
  
"Him! That... it was him! God, you know, it's always him! Every time I have my life just the way I want it, it's all about... him. Everything is about him." The last sentence escaped Brian's lips with such tenderness that Michael knew who 'he' was.  
  
"Justin."  
  
Brian nodded.  
  
"What did he say to you exactly?"  
  
"That I... that I'm the reason... he got bashed."  
  
Michael was infuriated. "That little shit!"  
  
"No, no. He's right, he's always right because everything that ever goes wrong is always my fault. We should all know that by now, huh, Mikey?"  
  
"Why? Why would he say that to you?"  
  
Brian took a long drink from the bottle in his hand before putting it softly onto the counter. He stared at his feet, too ashamed to look up, as he spoke to Michael. "Because I told him that all I ever wanted from his was a fuck."  
  
"Jesus, Brian." Michael didn't know what else to say. Both men stood there in awkward silence until finally Brian looked up, his eyes filled with tears.  
  
"I didn't mean it," he confessed in a whisper so low that Michael almost couldn't hear it. Just in case, Brian said it again, louder this time.  
  
"I didn't mean it, Michael."  
  
Michael nodded, walked to Brian and took him into his arms. "I know, Brian."  
  
"I didn't... I couldn't..."  
  
"I know."  
  
"It's not supposed to feel like this?"  
  
Michael pulled back from there embrace. "What's not?"  
  
"Us. Me. I don't feel... these things."  
  
"Love?"  
  
Brian shook his head and walked over to the couch where he fell heavily onto it. "I don't do love. I fuck. Love just makes everything so complicated. It makes it hurt... so much more when he says those things."  
  
"I know what you mean," Michael agreed as he sat down next to his best friend. "Everything is just... more, when it's love. The good stuff, too. The sex is better, all those other stupid little things that make you roll your eyes when it's not you."  
  
Brian smiled at this. "I hate feeling this way," he breathed the words like they meant nothing more than air.  
  
"No, you don't. Not all the time."  
  
"When did you get so fucking insightful?" Brian asked as he began to feel the more nauseating effects of all the alcohol he had consumed.  
  
Michael shrugged. "Just lucky, I guess."  
  
Brian laughed. "Yeah, right." He looked at the clock situated on the wall opposite him and saw that it was now past four o'clock. Michael saw the same and stood up, getting nowhere before Brian grabbed his arm.  
  
"Stay," he said plainly.  
  
Michael, finding that his soft spot for Brian still remained intact, couldn't help but do as he asked. "You are so pathetic."  
  
Brian, swallowing a sob, nodded in agreement.  
  
"All right, well, I'm just gonna call Ben, let him know what's up, not to worry."  
  
"Yeah, sure," Brian said as he lied down on the couch, resting his now throbbing head. He could hear Michael talking to his other half, saying cute things like, "Honey," and "Sweetie," and "make sure Hunter has a real breakfast, not a few mouthfuls of peanut butter." It ended with "Okay, goodnight, love you, too."  
  
Brian, unable to help himself as he drifted off, felt insanely jealous of something he knew he wouldn't allow himself to have.  
  
Brian awoke to the sound of a car horn honking outside. His head was throbbing, not to his surprise, and he was still lying on the couch. He sat up slowly, carefully, trying to move his head as little as possible. Looking over at the kitchen, he saw Michael making coffee in his boxers.  
  
"Morning," he said cheerily, and even that was too much for Brian to take.  
  
"Yeah, hi. What time is it?"  
  
"A little after eight. I set out some Tylenol and Tums on the coffee table for you. I figured you'd need it."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Brian took the pills before standing up and looking around at his place. The beer bottles had disappeared from the floor and everything looked generally straightened up. This reminded him of Michael's devotion to their friendship, and his heart warmed for him.  
  
"You didn't have to clean all that shit up," Brian informed him as he walked to the kitchen and took a cup of coffee.  
  
"No shit," Michael said, rolling his eyes. "But I was up early and I figured why the hell not? You had a rough night."  
  
Brian made a weak attempt at a smile. "Thank you."  
  
Michael shrugged. "It was nothing. Anyway, I gotta get outta here in about half and hour. I'm supposed to meet Ben at the diner at nine-ish before I open the store. You're welcome to come with."  
  
"I don't know if that's such a good idea."  
  
"Why? Because of Justin?"  
  
"Well... yeah."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Michael asked, "when has Justin ever stopped you before? Besides, maybe it would be better for you to just see him now and get it over with. It's not like you can avoid him forever."  
  
"I guess you're right."  
  
"Of course I'm right. Now go shower and let's get you out into the fresh air. I think you need it."  
  
An hour later they arrived at the diner and to Brian's surprise and somewhat to his relief, Justin wasn't there. They sat down at booth where Ben was already situated and Michael planted a long, tender kiss on his mouth.  
  
"Hey there, cutie."  
  
"Hey. Hey Brian. Is... uh... everything okay?"  
  
Brian nodded. "Peachy."  
  
Ben looked to his lover for some insight into the situation and Michael just shook his head mouthing, 'not now.'  
  
"Fucking Christ, Brian, you look like shit," was the first thing out of Debbie's mouth when she saw him.  
  
"Thanks, Deb."  
  
"Hello, mother," Michael said.  
  
"Hi sweet baby," she greeted him, pinching his cheek and then turning her attention back to Brian. "You got the same thing as Sunshine?"  
  
Brian was confused. "What?"  
  
"Well he's sick, it's why he's not here," she said with a sort of contempt that led Brian to believe she knew more than she was letting on. Or maybe he was just losing his mind.  
  
"I-er-"  
  
"Ma, could we just order please?"  
  
"Of course, darling. What can I get you boys?"  
  
The rest of the morning was a blur to Brian. All he could think of was Justin and the horrible words that had been exchanged the night before. A few times he felt a burning sensation in his throat, and feared that he might start crying. But he forced it back an put on a cold front, because God forbid he should let anyone in.  
  
That night, Brian couldn't sleep. He couldn't even think of sleeping despite his exhaustion. He hadn't seen or heard from Justin since the night before and it threw his whole body, his whole psyche off. The guilt about what he had said, the anger for what he had been accused of, it made him unable to function. Sleep would never come and eating had been a near impossibility. Brian knew that he had to see him. He jumped out of bed and glanced at the clock, which told him it was almost two in the morning, he couldn't care less. He clumsily threw on a shirt and pair of jeans before pulling on his shoes and leaving for his car.  
  
As Brian drove to the place he knew so well, that he knew Justin must be at, his mind was everywhere but the road. He absently pulled into a spot in front of the house and ran to the front door. Banging repeatedly on the door, he couldn't wait for someone to come. Debbie answered a few moments later and was still pulling a bathrobe around her full figure when she greeted Brian, in her way.  
  
"Fucking hell, Brian, where's the fire?"  
  
"I have to see him!"  
  
"What? See who?"  
  
Brian rolled his eyes. "Don't fuck with me right now Deb, I know he's in there."  
  
Debbie's eyes narrowed at Brian as she pointed a brightly manicured finger in his face. "Don't you talk to me like that," she insisted. "You come knocking at my door at two o'clock in the fucking morning, demanded to see some mystery man who isn't here because I'm alone in the house right now and you have the nerve to swear at me? I don't fucking think so."  
  
Brian's heart sank. "So I take it Justin isn't here."  
  
"Sunshine? Why the fuck would he be here?" Suddenly Debbie's face had a look of understanding come across it. "Oh, right."  
  
Brian was getting to point beyond frustrated. "If he's not here, how do you know what happened."  
  
"Oh, I don't."  
  
"What?"  
  
Debbie sighed and opened the door wider. "Why don't you come in?"  
  
Brian, feeling a bit apprehensive, entered slowly and followed Debbie into the kitchen where they sat together at the table.  
  
"So?" Brian inquired, losing his patience, "what exactly do you know."  
  
"This morning I got a call from Justin telling me that he was sick. But from his voice, I knew exactly what was wrong with him. It sounded like a case of Kinneyitis."  
  
Brian nodded. "Well, it's good to know that now I'm a disease. Look, if he's not here, could you tell me where he is?"  
  
Debbie smiled, "All I'm gonna say is that did it ever occur to you that he doesn't live here? He has an apartment you know."  
  
Brian could smack himself. "Daphne."  
  
Debbie nodded. "But I think if he wanted you to be seeing him, you wouldn't be here looking for him right now."  
  
Brian's placid composure ended abruptly, and he was left with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. "God, Deb," he moaned to her, his voice beginning to break, "I really need to see him."  
  
"I know, honey, but I think you can manage one more night alone."  
  
Brian put his head in head in his hands on the table and exhaled a sigh of defeat. He wasn't going to get what he wanted out of Debbie, he knew better than anyone that she was absolutely unbreakable. It was one of the things he most admired her for, her indomitable spirit. Right now, however, he wished she could make an exception for him, give him the permission he needed to find him, take him. Before he looked up, he felt a cool hand softly running over his hair and resting upon his cheek.  
  
Debbie spoke softly to Brian as she lifted his face. "I always knew you were a good kid, Brian, even under all those layers. I knew you were a good kid and you have become an amazing man."  
  
Brian tried to smile but couldn't manage even the smallest grin. "Then why do I feel like such a huge sack of shit?"  
  
"I said you were good, sweetheart, not perfect, so let me give you some advice. What you have with Justin, do not fuck it up because in your whole life you never had anything so real or so good. He's good for you, Brian, he keeps you grounded, he makes you a better man."  
  
Throwing his head back, Brian gripped his hands over his heart melodramatically. "Does he complete me, Deb?"  
  
She gave him a gentle, scolding slap upside the back of his head. "Don't you get cute with me, Kinney, I mean it. I see right through you, and I know that underneath all of your bullshit you're just as vulnerable as the rest of humankind. And let me tell you something else, he won't come running back to you every time you fuck up. If you don't take care of that boy, you'll hurt him, and be hurt, and then you'll lose him. And if you hurt him, I'm gonna kill you, because that sweet boy has been through enough pain. Do you understand me? Are you hearing what I'm telling you?"  
  
Debbie had always been the voice of reason. "Yeah, Deb, loud and clear."  
  
Daphne took a final look at Justin's miserable expression and sighed. "Do you wanna get outta here?"  
  
Justin broke free from his trance-like state, staring at the door to Woody's. "Huh? Why?"  
  
"Because we're having a crappy time. Look, my friend Simon is having a party at his place, why don't we go check that out?"  
  
"Because there's no fucking way I'm spending my Friday night with a bunch of goddamn breeders."  
  
Daphne, infuriated by his blatantly heterophobic remark, slapped his shoulder as hard as she could. "Asshole! I happen to be one of those goddamn breeders you hate so much."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Justin tried to apologize. "You know what I mean."  
  
"Whatever, Justin. If you don't want to be hanging out with straight people so much, why don't you just go find your good friend Cody and do something with him? I don't hang out at gay bars and dance clubs for my health, you know? Or because I don't have anywhere else I can be. I do it because you ask me to and I love you so I do it, so I'd appreciate a little appreciation and a little less hetero bashing."  
  
"Christ, Daph, what's gotten into you?"  
  
"It's just that ever since you starting your whole pink posse thing, you're different. You're mad all the time, militant almost. I'm really worried about you."  
  
"I can take care of myself."  
  
"Did I say you couldn't?"  
  
Justin looked at his feet and shook his head. "I'm sorry, okay. Could we talk about something else, please?"  
  
Daphne shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, of course. How about we talk about what the fuck we're still doing here? I didn't come to watch you mope around with that sour face thing you've perfected."  
  
"I'm not sour, I'm just... frustrated."  
  
"And waiting?"  
  
"For what?"  
  
Daphne choked a laugh. "You know for who."  
  
"It's not... I'm not... not everything revolves around Brian, you know. My entire life doesn't revolve around Brian."  
  
Smirking, Daphne raised her brow. "Oh yeah? Since when?"  
  
Justin couldn't help but smile. "Shut up. Let me buy you a drink and then we'll go. He's probably not coming at this point anyway."  
  
Daphne, staring at a distinct spot over Justin's shoulder, shook her head. "I wouldn't say that."  
  
Justin turned around to see Brian walking in with Michael and Emmett on either side, both jabbering at him at the same time. When he saw Justin, everything stopped. The two lovers spent a few silent moments just staring at each other until Justin looked away, embarrassed. Brian, cocky as ever walked over to the bar where Justin and Daphne were sitting; no one knew what to say so of course, Emmett broke the silence.  
  
"Well, hello. How is everyone this fine evening?"  
  
Brian looked at his friend in disgust.  
  
"No need to get testy," he retorted to the accusatory glance. "Bartender! A cosmo this-a-way, if you please."  
  
Daphne was the next to speak up bashfully. "Hi guys."  
  
"Hi, Daphne," Michael greeted her warmly but uncomfortably. "It's been a while."  
  
The hard gaze shared between Brian and Justin didn't break for a second despite Michael and Daphne's short, purposeless conversation. Both had expressions of wanting to say something but not being sure how to find the right words. While Justin was embarrassed by the silence, Brian found himself becoming angry. No one made him feel so vulnerable as Justin. Brian didn't even know he knew how to be vulnerable until he met his young lover.  
  
"We should talk," Brian suddenly blurted out to the surprise of everyone.  
  
Justin shrugged. "That's a start."  
  
"I mean alone, we should go."  
  
Justin wanted nothing more than to simply fall into Brian's arms and have everything be all right again, but he knew that after what was said two nights ago, that was impossible.  
  
"I-uh- I'm here with Daphne. I can't just leave."  
  
"It's okay, Justin," Daphne told him, giving his the permission he knew she would. "I'll just go over to Simon's."  
  
Justin smiled his gratitude to her and she kissed his cheek before saying goodnight to everyone and exiting the establishment. Brian's eyes still had not left Justin's soft features.  
  
"C'mon, let's get out of here."  
  
"Hello?" Michael suddenly interrupted. "What about-ow!"  
  
He was interrupted by a sharp, obvious kick in the shins by Emmett. "Don't you worry about us, Sweetie," he told Brian. "We'll call a cab."  
  
The ride back to the loft was silent, but not as awkward as the two men would have thought. It was not unusual for them to be in silence together; Justin felt sometimes as though he could lie contently, peacefully, without a word in Brian's strong arms for hours, even days. But now the silence was hostile, volatile, like it could erupt into screaming without a moment's notice. Fortunately, both men managed to stay quiet for the entire trip.  
  
When they got upstairs, Justin stopped in Brian's doorway, seemingly unable to enter. "Are you coming?" The older man asked nonchalantly.  
  
Justin felt ridiculous. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled as he stepped inside, getting an enormous case of déjà vu, remembering the first time he had ever come home with Brian.  
  
"You want anything?"  
  
Justin just stared at Brian, who was pulling out a beer from the refrigerator. "Water, I guess." Nodding, Brian pulled out an Evian bottle and tossed it to Justin. He took a long, nervous drink and set the bottle down on the island. Brian, watching Justin the whole time, tried to resist but couldn't help but smile.  
  
"What the fuck happened the other night?" He asked under his breath but loud enough for Justin to hear.  
  
Justin shrugged bashfully. "I don't know." His voice began to break as tears rose in his eyes, and the emotions and guilt of the past night came rushing back to him. "But I'm sorry."  
  
Brian was at a loss. He didn't know how to handle such a situation having never been in one before. He knew he felt sorry, and angry, and hurt; but conveying these sentiments to his lover seemed impossible.  
  
"Don't be," was all he managed. Upon hearing this, Justin snapped and began to cry, not caring in the least.  
  
"But I am! What I said! How could I-" Justin was cut of when he saw Brian slowly moving toward him. He was almost afraid to be touched by his lover when he felt his arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. Brian pulled him in closed, and swam in the feeling of having Justin back in his arms.  
  
"It's okay. I know you didn't mean what you said."  
  
Justin shook his head, not convinced that it would be so easy. "But you were so... I've never seen you so..."  
  
Brian shrugged, his lover still held firmly in his embrace. "Stuck a nerve, I guess."  
  
Justin pulled back and ran his fingers over his short, blonde hair. "You did, too, you know. What you said, how you wished... you can't just treat me like your fuck-buddy!"  
  
"I know, Justin. I shouldn't have-"  
  
"And I'm sorry if the stipulations of our arrangement don't suit me anymore but it's getting old, Brian. I want you to be mine."  
  
"Really? Well guess what? I don't want to be owned."  
  
Justin shook his head in frustration. "You know what I mean."  
  
"Look, you said you understood what you could expect from me, I thought you meant it."  
  
"I thought I did, too. But I'm not immune to jealousy, and I don't want to be selfish but I want to know that I come first."  
  
Brian smiled slyly. "Well, I think we both know that."  
  
Smiling despite himself, Justin sighed. "I mean that I am more to you than the fucking one night stands you bring home. I want to feel like I'm above your bullshit about relationships because I want to feel like I'm in one. This won't last forever, Brian, I can't always promise that I'm gonna be okay with you fucking other guys. And even after that, ten, twenty years from now, when you're not the hot shit you are now to every guy that lays eyes on you, what are you going to have left if you keep pushing me away?"  
  
After a moment of hesitation, Brian put his hands on the back of Justin's neck and pulled their foreheads together in a sort of gentle kiss. He took in a breath and exhaled out his nose; the light stream of cool air tickled Justin's lips as he waited for some sort of reassurance.  
  
"That last thing I want," Brian finally said, "is to push you away. If I didn't want you here, you know you wouldn't be here.."  
  
"We've been through so much," Justin muttered as tears began to fill his eyes again. "In four years, more than most have been through in decades. I'm so tired, Brian, I'm tired of games."  
  
Holding back his own tears induced by the pain he was causing his lover, Brian kissed his soft, full lips. "I don't mean to play," he confessed. "I don't want to lose you, Justin, I've come so close before and I can't handle losing you. But... I'm not ready to give it up just yet. And, and I'm not ready to say it yet. But that doesn't mean you don't come first, and it doesn't mean I don't."  
  
Justin nodded and breathed a sigh of relief, somehow feeling comforted. "That's okay, that's okay. I'll wait for you," he whispered to his lover, rubbing his hands gently up and down the sides of his torso as Brian massaged the back of his neck. "I have loved you with everything I have, everything I am since the moment I saw you. I will wait for you."  
  
"No," Brain told him reassuringly. "No waiting. You have me, know that. You have me."  
  
Smirking, Justin kissed his lover's lips. "Prove it."  
  
Brain released a short laugh of relief, understanding that their ordeal was over. Tenderly, he locked their lips in a passionate kiss and led his lover to bed.  
  
END 


End file.
